Hello Everyone! I hope that this finds you healthy and happy and that you have managed to get some entertainment out of the story thus far in these strange and challenging times. I am sorry to say that this is not a new chapter. I know that this will be a disappointment to many of you here (especially those of you who have been here since the beginning). Instead, I wanted to give everyone a quick update on what's going on.

The first thing is an explanation for why everything is taking so long. There are a few reasons for this. The biggest reason can be summed up in two words: law school. I started pursuing a legal education about a year ago, which has been taking up the bulk of my time. Even now, I find that it is still something that I need to adjust myself. I won't bother you with the details (I'll leave that to your capable imaginations), but law school is something that has taken priority over this story. I don't mean to say that this is the end of the story, more like that the story needs to take a back seat for the moment.

This brings me to my second point. The other day I was walking around my neighborhood and contemplating this story. In particular, I was thinking about a twist that I had planned for the upcoming chapter. I was thinking about how best to write it, and I was kicking myself over not setting it up better. This in turn led to me ruminating over other regrets that I had with the story. This story began over three years ago and was (and perhaps still is) my most serious attempt at a significant, large scale story. Going over my former chapters, I can now see the story as a progression of my writing craft. However, because I was planning the story while writing it, several flaws permeate the story. Characters and groups get introduced then abandoned, story threads lead nowhere, and individual experiments that seemed like a good idea at the time fell relatively flat (Arthur's POV anyone?). All the while, I've been reading up on how to write fiction better (and reading more generally), and I feel like that I now know more about what I want to do and how to do it.

Which leads me to the main reason I am writing this: I am officially putting this story on hiatus! I realize that was already true due to a lack of updates, but I feel that many of you who have followed this story deserve news. I also wanted to announce what I'm doing with this time off (for want of a better phrase): I am going to be rewriting this entire story. Perhaps "rewrite" is the wrong word for it; "revise" might be better, but it doesn't overall describe what I'm attempting here. The overall structure of this story will stay (mostly) the same. Also, most relationships developed thus far will remain the same. (Quick aside: the amount of people who comment on this story stating that they're disappointed in the lack of a C.C/Lelouch ship is baffling to me, especially given that the description for this story clearly states that there is a Kallen/Lelouch ship). To ensure that all this syncs up with each other, I will not start publishing anything until I have not only rewritten all current chapters but also until I finish this entire story (or at least several chapters ahead).

In the meantime, I ask of only one thing from all of you: please keep favoriting, following, and commenting on this story. Every notification I get about a favorite, follow, or comment is another reminder that someone is reading this story. And every reminder is another kick for me to get back to this story that has brought us together. With any luck, I'll finish in no time, and this chapter will disappear in place of a much better-told tale.

And now, because I feel bad for having given you a very long author's note when you were expecting a chapter (and because I think that most of you would've figured out that something was up with an update that was only 700 words), please enjoy a short story I wrote a while ago.

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The Last Conspirator (or Hurts like Loneliness)

Heloise Arden walked into the empty stateroom, tired from keeping up pretenses at yet another society ball. Not bothering to turn on the light, she went over to her dresser and began to disassemble her outfit. The routine was always the same; first her earrings, then her necklace, followed by then pins in her hair that kept it upright. These parties were all the same, a bunch of rich somebodies trying to act solemn around her, trying to respect the fact both of her daughters were dead, but having too good of a time otherwise to keep the façade up for long. Heloise thought that after what she and the others had done on the train, they would have been able to move on. Perhaps not her, she was too old despite what everyone said about her keeping her beauty, her life had been cold ever since the news had come in that poor little Lily was dead. But she had hoped that the other would have been able to move on. However, the stories of their deaths had come trickling slowly. First, Manuel had died in a fire. Then Richard in a car accident. Then Hector, Isabella, Natashia, Victor, Mary, Lionel, Virgil, all dead from one thing or another. Finally, the deaths of her dear Dorothy and her husband Marcello; he died from crashing one of those cars he loved to drive, she of a barbital overdose. That one had significantly affected Heloise, partly because her only other daughter was dead, partly because she had thought that Dotty had kicked her addiction. Now, it was just her. Alone.

She had moved to undo the buttons of her gown when she heard a voice speak from the side, saying, "Nothing quite hurts like loneliness, does it?"

Heloise turned to see a man sitting in the shadows by the balcony. The shadows of darkness obscured his face, but there was something about the drawl in his voice that made him seem familiar. "Are you another love-struck fan, here to profess your undying love?" she asked, surprised at the casualness that tinged her voice.

"No, I am here to kill you," the man said in a conversational tone, "Although I won't deny that I'm a fan. I saw you as Medea on Broadway back in '22; You gave a spectacular performance."

"You're too kind," Heloise responded, thinking back to those happier times. "But why are you here to kill me?"

In response, the man turned on the lamp that was on the table next to him, allowing Heloise to see his face. Upon seeing his jawline and furrowed brow, Heloise understood why that voice had seemed so familiar. "Russo…?" she said with a mixture of dread, shock, and anger.

"Yes," the man said, "But I'm not the one you're thinking of. You see, I am Filippo Russo. You see, Ruggieri Russo was my brother."

"Oh," Heloise said, her anger deflating with the realization of why he was here. "How did you know to look for me?"

"It wasn't overly difficult. I knew that the story that you gave the cops gave was bullshit. It's believable that some rouge boarded your train at a snowbank and stabbed my brother, but the body didn't back up the story. I've seen numerous corpses, and my brother looked like he was stabbed by multiple people, not one. I then decided to speak with his former steward, Manuel. I found him in Hell's Kitchen, living out of the bottom of a whiskey bottle. The man was so drunk that he believed that I was my brother's ghost. I played along and pretended to be Ruggieri back to haunt him, telling him that the devil had sent me from hell to find those who had killed him and bring them to him. The poor sap confessed the entire plot then and there. I then slit his throat before burning him and his apartment to cover my tracks. From there, I tracked down each of the conspirators and sought their version of the tale before I killed them. Without fail, they backed his story. But I found something interesting about your fellow conspirators."

"What was it?"

"They were all, in their own special way, miserable. Manuel tried to cope with whiskey. With Mary, it was religion and a convent. Each one of your fellow conspirators was miserable, and they tried to erase it with something else. I suppose they felt guilty in some way."

"You know why we did it?" Heloise snapped. "You know why we killed him? You know what he did to my granddaughter, to my daughter, to her husband?"

"Yes, which is why I hold nothing against you. My brother was certainly no saint, I assure you. A part of me was thankful when I received the news that he was dead. Thankful that I wouldn't have to worry about him or whatever stupid things he was caught up in."

"Then why-"

"Why have I killed your fellow conspirators? Why am I here? It's no hot-blooded revenge, I can assure you. It is because of a promise I made long ago. My dear mother, may she rest in peace, made Ruggieri, and I swear that we would try to avenge the other's death should some unnatural death befall us. I doubt that Ruggieri would have ever upheld that promise, as we were never close. But I do feel like I should uphold my promises, no matter how empty they were at the time."

"If all you say is true, why are you still talking to me? Why didn't you shoot when I walked in?"

"I always talk to the men and women that I kill if I have the time. I explain to them why they're dying, try to prepare them for what is about to come. In short, I extend a courtesy that you failed to provide my brother."

"I did."

"What do you mean?"

"I did extend that courtesy. We each took turns stabbing him. When it was my turn, in the end, I looked into his eyes. He was awake at this point but was unable to move due to the multiple stab wounds. In his eyes, I saw confused terror, like he couldn't understand why this was happening. As I plunged the knife into his heart, I whispered her name. I whispered to him my granddaughter's name. Daisy. As I breathed out that name, I saw his eyes change. The overall look of terror was still there, but the confusion had now been replaced with a horrible realization. He took one last gasp as tried to say something; I'll never know if it was an apology or a curse. And with that, he died."

Filippo accepted this story with equanimity. "In that case, thank you. Not everyone gets to learn the reason why they die."

"And thank you," Heloise said, "for extending that same courtesy to me." And with that, she closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The gunshot was quick and swift. After this, Filippo Russo turned off the lamp and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. The curtains billowed from the nighttime breeze while Heloise's corpse laid contently on the bloody table.